Call From Trenzalore
by notaghoststory
Summary: Knowing he is about to regenerate, the Eleventh Doctor says one final goodbye to his companion. (prompted by rumours and filming footage of series 8)


***A/N: Semi-spoilers for "Deep Breath". I haven't read any of the scripts or watched the leaked version of the episode but I have heard rumours and seen some footage from filming.**

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**Call From Trenzalore**

He wasn't sure why he was doing it when he'd changed; why he was looking at Clara with such concentration. The Doctor had so much and so little running through his head in that moment that he could barely even process that he was doing anything at all. Now he knew, he was simply seeing Clara through new eyes. A twisted part of him had felt lucky to see her for the first time again. But now he's staring consciously. He doesn't feel lucky anymore. He still knows she's his Clara but he's not her Doctor. Not yet anyway. He knows he'll have to earn that but maybe what happens next will help her let go of the man he used to be. The man he still _was_ deep down. The thing that hardens him the most is what he sees when he looks at her. She's not looking at him with anger or disappointment . . . not even sadness all the time, but he can't read her face like it's an open book anymore. He has to put his whole focus onto the downwards curves of her lips, the small creases around her big brown eyes.

"Are you alright, Clara?" he asks, his new Scottish accent unfamiliar and rough.

She nods but it's not difficult to see she's lying. The Doctor sighs, leaning on the console heavily with his head bowed. "There's nothing I can do," he says, sounding disappointed in himself.

_There's nothing you have to do, _she thinks. Clara can't bring herself to say it out loud. It was different when they were running for their lives, lost in the adventure. There wasn't much time to think about what was different, what was happening. They both just had to get through it and she felt fine. But not anymore. She'd changed back into her tartan skirt and the cardigan with the bowties and he was wearing something brand new. Clara was reminded of his bowtie falling to the ground, his soft voice soothingly whispering a simple "Hey," to comfort her...

"But maybe he can," the Doctor finishes sadly.

An eyebrow raises and her lips part to question, her voice being stopped by the buzzing in her pocket. She numbly reaches for her phone, fingers fumbling awkwardly around the sharp corners before she finally sees the name. _Doctor._ She looks to the man at the console, a confused expression on her tired face. He doesn't look back, he knows she's a clever girl and will work it out on her own.

And she does. She smiles widely in shock, a small gasp escapes her lips which she covers in a generous gesture only too late. Clara notices the Doctor flinch upon sensing her sudden happiness but knows better than to acknowledge it. One last look to the new man before she turns on her heel out of the TARDIS doors, bringing the phone to her ear as she strides to lean on the nearest wall for support.

"Hello?" she croaks, readying herself for the voice she knows will follow. It will break her heart all over again, but she needs to listen. Clara feels somewhat relieved to be reminded that her Chinboy is still out there somewhere. Somewhere, she's even with him. Everywhere in fact. Sometimes she dreams of what she experienced and saw when she'd sacrificed herself to save him. Clara never told him; she didn't want him to worry or feel guilty for her waking up in the middle of the night in tears. For once in her life, she hoped she'd have another. She could never remember them properly once she woke up but she knew they were real somehow. Clara could gain new memories with him - real, proper ones - if she tried hard enough to remember them.

"Hello." Clara's chest clenches. She knew words had infinite power; had always firmly believed it even if she didn't know when she was a little girl waiting for a letter in her postbox when she was eleven, it was still always inside of her. But hearing him say 'hello', after already saying her goodbye brings tears to her eyes. She closes them tightly to hold the tears back but they flow through her lashes like a flood, drenching her cheeks.

She's grateful that he speaks again first. Clara had no idea what to say if he hadn't. "It mustn't be long since I . . . changed," he says quietly. Clara can hear him trying not to cry, his voice cracking so slightly most people wouldn't notice. Of course Clara knows though, Clara always knows. "I wanted to thank you. For saving me again." He chuckles sadly. "You know, I thought I'd never get done saving humanity, but I think you'll be the one who never gets done saving me."

He always tried so _desperately_ to protect her, but she seemed to always do the same for him and more. The Doctor could never repay her for all she'd done. All those years ago, when he learned that this town called Christmas had another name he'd been terrified. His story was coming to a close forever. _"The dying battle among millions."_ The Doctor had thought Clara wouldn't be caught in the mix - of course, he hadn't wanted to think of her leaving him before then but what alternatives were there? For the Doctor, burying her there wasn't one of them. He had to let her go and live the normal, human life he knew she deserved and loved. When she'd came back he knew he would have to do the same again. The Doctor selfishly allowed himself some last few moments with his Clara before he inevitably sent her home again. For good, he thought. They could never bury his Clara out there.

"Don't be silly," Clara says, a small laugh releasing a wave of tears she carelessly wipes away with a sleeve. "I couldn't let you die."

The Doctor smiled. "You're too good to me, Clara," he sighs gratefully.

There's a pause. Clara's building up the courage to say something, he knows and stays silent. "Why did you send me away? You could have given me a choice. I would have..." she trails off, knowing her point's been made. Clara didn't have the strength for saying more than she needed to.

He bows his head guiltily. The Doctor doesn't regret his decision. If he hadn't sent her away, he would be lying dead beside her already rotted corpse. The image sends shivers down his spine and he shakes away tears. "I didn't send you away," he breathes. "I gave you up."

The Doctor could have had a life with Clara on Christmas for a while. Not exactly the life Clara had back home but one that he knew deep down she would have agreed to. There was no evidence to say she couldn't have taken the TARDIS to visit her family now and then. He wanted to say he didn't let it happen because he thought it was too risky, too complicated. But really, he knew he was simply just too selfish to bury her. Knowing - well, thinking - Clara was having a happy, normal life back on Earth - hating him, but happy - had been enough to keep him steady while he could have been driven insane by the constant whispers in his ears. _"Doctor who?"_

"But I didn't want to give _you_ up," she sobs, taking a deep breath to steady her shoulders.

His hearts break at the sound of his distraught Impossible Girl. "No, no Clara please . . . please don't cry. I'm sorry."

Clara nods, it calms her for reasons she can't explain. She dries her eyes and clears her throat. "I'm fine," she lies. "Considering," Clara amends.

The Doctor grins, a stray tear trailing down his face. "Of course you are. You're _Clara._ - Always _brave_, always _funny_, always exactly what I need." His words hang in the air for a moment as he prepares his next words. Clara knows she has to listen carefully. How many times had he blurted the first thing that came to his mind? More times than anyone in the universe could count. Very rarely did he prepare his words. "I know you might not want to stay with me," he says sadly. "But I'm asking you if you please will. You might be scared but . . . he will be too. And he'll need you. Look after me, eh?"

She releases her teeth's grip on her lip, she'd been trying to hold back another outburst of crying. "I will," she promised. "I'll always stay with you - and don't forget that again," she chuckles.

He laughs with her, "I'll try my best to remember who's boss in future. And past, present etc. etc."

Clara giggles. It's her usual warm, sweet giggle. He hopes that doesn't change with whoever he becomes. She knows his new face is still him but maybe that will make letting go of his silly old bowtie harder for her. The Doctor can't help but realise that if the regeneration is hard for her, then this was his last chance. After nearly a thousand years without her you'd think his memory of Clara would fade from him but that didn't happen. Not in the slightest. He took a deep breath, wishing it hadn't taken him this long to admit it to her. _"All the time in the world"_ was never really true, no matter how much he told himself.

"Clara," he begins nervously.

"Yeah?" She's calmed down considerably since the conversation began; he did that. Relaxed her when she thought it would be impossible. Everything felt as familiar as the wooden picket fence outside her old childhood house.

"I just want you to know - because I don't know how good the new me will be with this sort of thing. I hope it's not worse but just in case I um . . ." He scratches at the side of his face nervously, breathing heavily. 2000 years old and he was acting like a teenager with a crush. "Clara I . . . I love you." There, he'd said it. "And I know I still will after I change. I always will."

Her heart leaps, Clara physically jolting in surprise. A smile spreads across her face. He does? The Doctor really loves her, they could- her face falls. This wasn't a final happy ending; the Doctor she was speaking to was about to die in front of her, being replaced by a Doctor who looked at her like he didn't know who she was anymore.

"I love you too," she replies quietly. Clara always knew her trick wasn't working but thinking the Doctor wasn't in love with her too had made hiding it and denying it a lot easier. She feels the Doctor's face break into a smile. Clara closes her eyes and she can see him standing in front of her in his daft old tweed coat with his floppy mop of hair. A hand reaches up ever so slightly before she quickly withdraws it. He's not really here, she reminds herself as she opens her eyes.

The Doctor's about to continue, say how much that means to him but he sees a shimmer of gold on his hand. It's only a slight flicker but he knows it's going to happen very soon. He can't put Clara through that twice at the same time. "We haven't got much time," he says as evenly as he can. He doesn't want to upset Clara any more than he already has and knowingly will do. "But one more thing. One last favour for me, my Impossible Girl . . . my Clara. Can you do that?"

She feels her knees weaken. "Anything," she whispers.

"You and me, Clara. Stay running and don't ever stop . . . " She'd already promised to do just that but he had to make sure.

"Run you clever girl - and remember me."


End file.
